


Dangerous to Dream

by arabmorgan



Category: Produce 101 (TV), Wanna One (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Clairvoyance, Developing Relationship, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-20
Updated: 2019-08-20
Packaged: 2020-09-07 17:56:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,396
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20313646
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arabmorgan/pseuds/arabmorgan
Summary: Jisung sees glimpses of everyone's futures. Everyone, that is, but Minhyun's.





	Dangerous to Dream

_It’s the same dream every time – but of course it is. If there is one thing in the world that Jisung is sure of, it’s that the future is immutable._

_There is a small room, nicely furnished with gleaming wood panelling and plush carpeting lining the floor. And then there is him, staring blankly at the wall just ahead, fingers twisting and twisting at the cuffs of his sleeves, and despite his fine surroundings he is sick to his stomach with fear._

_There is someone behind him, approaching on soft soles. He can feel their presence looming, even if he can’t turn around. A hand lands on his shoulder with a firm grip and his stomach lurches –_

_He always wakes up right then, phantom terror sending his heart racing in his chest._

_Every vision means something for its subject. Jisung only ever sees pivotal moments in people’s lives, and these thirteen seconds are his own._

_Ever since the manifestation of his strange power, he’s quite sure he has been dreaming of the day he will die._

* * *

“You have a new neighbour. Did you know that?” Sungwoon looked over at him from where he was sprawled lazily across the entirety of the couch, a remarkable feat in itself given his friend’s slight build.

“Oh, really?” Jisung’s lips quirked, tone casual even as his brows raised ever so slightly in faint curiosity. Most of his focus remained before him, where he was finally getting around to ironing his laundry, forced into reluctant action by sheer necessity, because he had exactly zero clean or uncrumpled shirts to wear and he had friends who enjoyed dropping by without so much as a courtesy text beforehand. For instance, the very person currently stretched out far too comfortably on _his _couch, one socked foot poking over the edge of the seat.

Sungwoon shrugged. “Yep, some guy was moving furniture and boxes in when I walked by.” He fell silent after that, the minutes ticking quietly by until he abruptly stretched, letting out a loud and obscene-sounding groan and popping something in his neck that sounded to Jisung like it should be painful, before his eyes began to flutter shut.

Jisung’s smile widened, gaze softening as he flicked a glance over at Sungwoon, who was starting to make soft whistling noises out of his nose with every exhalation. He was quite well aware, no matter how much Sungwoon tried to pretend otherwise, that his friend was completely tuckered out after an entire day on his feet, snapping at his hapless employees and pasting on sugar-sweet smiles for his most moneyed clients.

And yet here he was anyway, ostensibly to keep Jisung from shrivelling up without sufficient human interaction because _seriously, you just stay at home all day, hyung!_ It wasn’t true – that is, that he was anywhere close to shrivelling up – but Jisung appreciated the thought all the same.

Folding his newly-ironed shirts with care, trailing his fingers along the edges to enjoy the lingering warmth still radiating off the fabric, Jisung let out a soft, tired breath. Matching his breathing to Sungwoon’s, he rolled his shoulders slowly, feeling the dull, almost pleasurable ache of the muscles beneath with every movement.

True, he hadn’t been out of his house in close to two weeks, and it wasn’t even a new record – but he had friends who cared enough to visit regularly, and who affectionately ate him out of house and home every chance they got, and it was enough. It had to be.

In the end, he had learned that it was the small mercies that mattered the most.

* * *

_Except for his own, the visions all happen in the same way._

_Jisung locks eyes with someone, even if only for a second, just a passing glance, and it’s as if a switch is flicked in his head. The world doesn’t so much swirl about him as vanish with an unnerving suddenness, and then he is locked in his own head, seeing through the eyes of a stranger at some unknown point in the future, trapped in a daydream that he can’t wake from._

_Eventually, he starts passing them off as absence seizures. After all, if the shoe fits – Daniel always tells him how freaky it is, his empty stare and slack expression, his utter unresponsiveness to even the most violent shaking._

_The visions only ever last a couple of seconds, and then he blinks, shoved back into his own mind, and looks around. And then someone else looks at him, and he looks back without really meaning to, and he is gone again._

_That’s why he stops going out._

* * *

> Dear Roong,
> 
> A few months ago, my boyfriend of four years dumped me. He said that it wasn’t working out, and we both cried a lot, but now he has a new girlfriend and he’s smiling again. I feel like I’m still stuck in the same place he left me and I don’t know what to do about it. I’m always either sad, tired or angry. I think I need help.
> 
> Troubled

Jisung chewed on his lip distractedly as he read the short paragraph twice over, and then once more for good measure, before realising what he was doing and taking a sip of water instead. Flexing his fingers uncertainly over the keyboard, he had only gotten as far as a simple _Dear Troubled _when there came two soft knocks on his front door, the sound somehow managing to be both firm and unfailingly polite.

He twitched, brows furrowing briefly, confusion and surprise in that single small motion. He was expecting Seongwu over, but not for another hour yet, and besides, Seongwu was more the type to bang rough-fisted on his door while calling repeatedly, _hyung?_ as if Jisung would really be anywhere else but home.

Jisung made the short journey to the front door with the distinct air of someone being made to walk the plank, his throat convulsing as he swallowed nervously, fists clenching and unclenching before he finally set one sweat-damp palm stiffly on the door handle. The thought of leaving the knocks unanswered never even crossed his mind.

“Hello,” a soft voice immediately said the moment he pulled the door open, and Jisung blinked, startled. For one thing, being a stranger, his very presence on Jisung’s doorstep was startling in itself – but the man the voice belonged to was also startlingly tall and startlingly handsome, cloaked in the sort of quiet self-assurance that either cowed or irresistibly attracted others.

Most startling of all was the fact that Jisung was looking him right in the eye and nothing at all was happening.

“I – ” Jisung said stupidly in response, blinking rapidly as if that would somehow send the world spinning back on its normal axis, and he would promptly be presented with a useless, contextless scene from the future of the unfairly attractive man before him.

Instead, he only saw with shocking clarity the way the stranger’s eyes arced in gentle half-moons as he smiled right at Jisung. He could barely even remember the last time he’d looked a stranger in the eye without fear; even now, he was thrumming with tension, ready for a dizzying vision that, it seemed, was never going to come.

“I’m Minhyun,” the man offered, dipping a small, almost courtly bow. When Jisung only continued to gape at him in silence, he gestured off to the right with the first hint of hesitation in his movements. “Your new neighbour?”

Jisung stared at Minhyun blankly for another second – he couldn’t remember the last time he’d even met either of his neighbours – before Sungwoon’s words suddenly flashed back to him. “_Ah_ – oh, right! Uh, hi. I’m Jisung. You just moved in, what, last week?” The words flowed haphazardly from his lips even as he floundered desperately for something a little more substantial to say. “Um, nice to meet you. How are you liking it here?”

Immediately, he wanted to crawl into a hole and curl up inside for eternity. Seriously – _how are you liking it here?_ He sounded like a terribly-written sitcom, but the lack of a vision had thrown him off badly. Were his visions gone, as suddenly as they had come? Or was the Adonis before him just a miraculous exception?

But Minhyun seemed utterly oblivious to the turmoil raging in his neighbour’s mind, and he all but beamed at Jisung’s question. “It’s lovely,” he said sincerely. “It’s quiet, but everyone is friendly. I’m really liking it so far.”

Jisung nodded, fists clenching nervously at his sides as an awkward silence fell between them once more. What else was there to say?

“Actually,” Minhyun continued, his voice cutting smoothly through the quiet like butter, as if he hadn’t noticed Jisung’s unease, or was simply pretending not to, “I came over to request a favour. Would you happen to have an extra USB cable I could borrow? I can’t find mine – it’s probably still in a box somewhere, or lying in some corner. Everything’s still a mess, honestly.” He let out a sheepish laugh, and the lightness of the sound sent goosebumps crawling up Jisung’s arms.

“Yes,” he said immediately, even though he wasn’t actually sure if he did. “Um, just hold on for a minute while I grab it – or would you like to come in?” He raised his gaze to Minhyun’s, and once again felt a frisson of _something _crackle through the air when their eyes met.

Minhyun’s lips parted slightly for a moment, as if in consideration, before he shook his head. “I wouldn’t want to intrude,” he said, flashing his almost illegally charming smile, and Jisung turned away before he could be tempted to protest.

He hadn’t met a new person properly in a _decade_, much less one as attractive as his new neighbour. Of course his heart would be fluttering, of course he would be tongue-tied and ridiculous, and of course Minhyun would feel nothing in return. He was just a recluse who wrote _advice columns_ – it would’ve been funny if it weren’t so pathetic.

And yet he couldn’t help saying anyway, as he handed the cable over to a grateful Minhyun, “Well, if you need any help unpacking, just let me know.”

And he couldn’t keep the tiny glimmer of hope from blooming in his chest when Minhyun grinned and nodded, and promised to do just that.

* * *

_Every vision is disorienting in its own right. Just a single one is bad enough, but in a crowd, it becomes nothing short of debilitating._

_It only happens a few times, mostly in the early years, when his power came in sputtering starts and stops, and he hadn’t yet realised that looking people in the eye is folly._

_Jisung still remembers the first time with horrifying vividness. He’s at a friend’s party, surrounded by people_

blink there’s something small in his arms, and a baby’s cry pierces the air blink

_and he turns, confused _

blink every single muscle in his body is aching, but a crowd is cheering and he feels nothing but elation blink

_he’s starting to realise he needs to get out_

blink it’s dark, and he can’t really make anything out, but something hurts blink

_but it’s too crowded_

blink he’s shaking someone’s hand, and pride swells in his chest blink

_all the flashing back and forth is making him dizzy_

blink_ – _

_It goes on and on until he finally sinks to his knees and starts to retch, and at some point, mercifully, he passes out from the drumbeat throbbing in his head._

* * *

Minhyun knocked on Jisung’s door again three days later.

He could tell it was Minhyun because of, once again, the two polite, short raps on wood that none of his friends would ever have bothered with. There was also, of course, the fact that no one else would be knocking on his door besides his friends and his new neighbour unless there was a fire in the building.

Jisung felt no more prepared to open the door the second time around than he had the first, and he found himself automatically bracing for a fresh vision as he set his hand on the door handle once again. Perhaps the previous time had been a fluke – or perhaps, following the horrifying thought that had gripped him one morning as he was idly waiting for his microwave to ping, Minhyun didn’t have enough of a future left for him to see. Either way, his heart was pounding, although whether in dread or anticipation he couldn’t quite tell.

Any thought of a carefully-prepared greeting slid from Jisung’s mind the moment he opened the door and caught sight of Minhyun standing patiently on his doorstep, and his flustered “_hello_” burst out of his mouth in a long exhalation as a brief moment of exhilaration rushed through him. He felt like a gawky teenager all over again, one whose crush had just said hi to him in the hallway.

“Hi,” Minhyun said back, looking amused. “Uh, I’m here to take you up on your offer actually, if you’re free right now. I just – I don’t know where to start. I’m kind of a neat freak and all this mess is just killing me, and I figured maybe you could just help me to figure out where I should even get started. Unpacking, I mean.”

The tips of Minhyun ears were tinged pink, Jisung noticed, a flush that was rapidly spreading downwards, even as his voice continued its soothing, even cadence. It was strangely endearing, that tiny sign that perhaps Minhyun wasn’t quite as collected as he seemed, and simply had a very good poker face.

“Sure, I’m free now.” Jisung shrugged casually, as if his gut hadn’t been roiling with nerves mere minutes ago, and immediately the tension that had been coiled in Minhyun seemed to unravel. It hadn’t really been noticeable at first, the looseness that had been missing from the set of his shoulders, or the slow smile on his face that hadn’t been present before, but in hindsight the difference was stark.

Minhyun’s apartment was, in Jisung’s opinion, the definition of organised chaos – _very _chaotic organised chaos. A thick stack of flattened cardboard boxes was propped up in a corner, their contents strewn about on every available surface in neat, sorted stacks. There were books on the tables, clothes on the bed, bottles of vitamins on the kitchen counter, curtains folded on the floor by the windows. It was clear that Minhyun had tried his best to insert some semblance of order into the place, but had eventually been overwhelmed by the sheer volume of things emerging from his boxes.

“It’s bad, isn’t it?” Minhyun sighed, darting a rueful glance over at Jisung, who raised a brow as he took in the small space.

“Well, it’s nothing we can’t fix,” he said slowly, chewing on his lower lip. “Just – maybe you shouldn’t have taken everything out of _all_ the boxes all at once.”

Minhyun shuffled his socked feet awkwardly, suddenly looking far younger than his effortless poise would suggest. “It's my first time moving in anywhere,” he confessed, and Jisung’s eyes softened as he chuckled knowingly.

They spent the rest of the afternoon packing, moving systematically from one corner of the house to another, armed with a vacuum to combat the occasional clouds of dust that puffed up with every movement. Minhyun ordered takeout for dinner, and Jisung tried to pay for his share before he was quite firmly shot down, in that gentle, unstoppable way that seemed to be unique to Minhyun alone. When he returned to his own empty home, he was almost buzzing, flushed with the adrenaline of finally making a new friend after so many years. The next day, he returned promptly to continue with the shelves they had constructed only halfway the day before.

It was just so easy – easy to move past Minhyun on the way to the kitchen to grab a glass of water, their shoulders brushing in a single meaningless moment of contact. Easy to cock his head sideways and listen when Minhyun placed a hand on his shoulder, the warmth of his skin bleeding through Jisung’s shirt and right down into his bones. Easy not to think about how Minhyun’s ungodly good looks made him forget how to breathe, when he could instead watch the light reflect off Minhyun’s eyes as he spoke, arms moving animatedly, occasionally looking right at Jisung to check that he was still paying attention.

He had known people like Daniel, Seongwu and Sungwoon for so long that he had started to take their comfortable presence for granted. He had forgotten that being around other people wasn’t supposed to be terrifying. He had forgotten how much easier it was to get along with someone when he could look them in the eye without a second thought. He had almost forgotten how to be himself, the Jisung who wasn’t exhausted from self-enforced solitude, the Jisung who laughed easily, the Jisung who believed that he could be loved.

He barely knew Minhyun, but somehow Minhyun made him feel alive again.

* * *

_“Hyung!”_

_There’s someone banging on his door – someone who sounds suspiciously like Sungwoon. Jisung pulls the door open with a sigh, cutting the younger man off mid-shout. Sungwoon’s expression is bright, his face almost glowing with happiness as he pauses automatically, waiting for Jisung’s inevitable vision to pass._

_They both stand there, staring at each other for a minute, and it is only five years later that Jisung will again feel so completely disoriented, like the world is somehow off-balance, because right then, he is looking into Sungwoon’s eyes, and no vision is forthcoming._

_Sungwoon is chattering on again, and Jisung can barely register the words as they wash over him. “…that envelope you keep seeing? I think I got it yesterday – it’s the funding, hyung. I was so scared, you wouldn’t believe it, but they said they’re going to fund my business plan!”_

_Jisung blinks, slow realisation dawning upon him – the vision he always gets for Sungwoon has come to pass, and that is all there is for him to see. Once it’s over, he’s safe. _Safe.

_“Sungwoon,” he interrupts, his voice barely above a whisper, “I’m looking at you.” He searches his friend’s clear gaze with uninhibited wonder, and then Sungwoon pulls him into a tight hug when he abruptly starts to cry._

* * *

If there was one thing Jisung had learned about Seongwu over their years of friendship, it was that Seongwu was a whiner. An adorable, endearing whiner, but a whiner nonetheless.

Only years of experience could have allowed him to stay unmoved while Seongwu trailed after him like a needy puppy, pouting all the while. “You’re kicking me out so you can have dinner with your new neighbour?” Seongwu demanded, eyes widening comically as he latched on to Jisung’s arm. “Me, your friend who has been with you through thick and thin, abandoned for some random _guy_? Where’s your heart, hyung?”

Jisung rolled his eyes, unable to stop a smile from forming. “I asked you if you wanted to stay for dinner and you said no. Did you forget? So I’m not kicking you out, Seongwu – I just made alternative dinner plans because _you_ rejected me.”

Seongwu’s jaw dropped in silent outrage, and he made an odd sound deep in his throat that suggested Jisung had beaten him at his own game. “_Hyung_,” he grumbled, setting his chin on Jisung’s shoulder. “Well, as long as you don’t love him more than you love me.”

Jisung twitched slightly at that. “Seongwu, you’re one of my best friends, and one of my most _annoying _friends,” he said with a soft smile, pulling away so that he could look the younger man full in the face. “You’ve always been there for me. I literally just met this guy last month.”

Seongwu pressed his lips together, appearing to think about Jisung’s words for a moment, before he sighed in a most long-suffering manner. “Fine,” he said huffily, but he reached out and squeezed Jisung’s hand affectionately. “I’ll go then, so you can have fun with _Minhyun_.” He drew the syllables out playfully in a singsong tone, until Jisung pushed him bodily out of the apartment and shut the door firmly in his laughing face.

It wasn’t that Jisung was nervous about Minhyun coming over to his home for the first time. He was just – not quite at ease with the whole idea. It felt too intimate, having an almost-stranger in this small space he spent almost all his time in, that no one but his family and closest friends had seen.

But the invitation had been issued, an impulse that he hadn’t been able to control, and that was that.

Minhyun arrived quite promptly at seven, holding two bottles of soju and flushing to the tips of his ears for no apparent reason at all. With a tentative smile, because the words wouldn’t seem to come, Jisung stepped back to let Minhyun in, rocking back on his heels anxiously as he watched Minhyun look around.

“It’s not much –” he hastened to say, feeling oddly like a guest in his own home, but Minhyun was already talking over him.

“It’s nice, I like it. It feels like a home, with all the pictures and everything.” Minhyun turned to glance back at Jisung. “Mine is still kind of bare. I haven’t gotten around to decorating much.”

Jisung actually laughed at that. “Don’t worry, it takes time. Once you’ve lived in one place for long enough, the mess starts to accumulate. That’s where the homeliness comes from,” he said dryly.

In the end, dinner was just as lovely as the few times they had eaten at Minhyun’s, and Jisung no longer had any idea why he’d expected anything different. They talked about Jisung’s column and his friends, and Minhyun’s family and his new job, but never once did Minhyun ask about Jisung’s lack of a social life, and he wondered if it was too much to hope that Minhyun hadn’t noticed anything out of the ordinary about that.

The only remotely personal question Minhyun asked came when they were about halfway through their soju, when Jisung was feeling full and content, and perhaps just brushing the edge of sleepiness.

“You’re not, uh,” Minhyun started, before pausing to take another gulp of alcohol, blinking owlishly at Jisung all the while. “You’re not with anyone, are you?”

Jisung blinked slowly at him, the words cycling sluggishly through his brain. “I’m going to assume that you don’t mean that literally,” he said carefully, not wanting his eager mind to misconstrue anything, “because _you’re _with me right now.”

Minhyun’s head tilted slightly at that. “No, not literally,” he replied, just as carefully, the two of them watching each other’s movements like boxers in a ring, albeit with significantly less hostility.

Mutely, baffled by the unexpected line of questioning, Jisung shook his head, and Minhyun only uttered a tiny _ah_ in response before lapsing into a thoughtful silence. An hour later, after insisting on helping Jisung with the dishes, Minhyun left for his own apartment, leaving Jisung alone to ponder the look on Minhyun’s face when he’d said that barely audible _ah_.

There’d been the tiniest flicker of emotion in his eyes, the slightest nod of his head, the merest suggestion of his brows lifting.

Jisung wondered if any of it meant anything at all.

* * *

_“…hyung? Hyung!”_

_He comes to with Daniel shaking him hard by the shoulders, looking more freaked out than Jisung has ever seen him._

_“What?” he says, confused, shaking his head slightly and stepping back out of Daniel’s reach._

_“I don’t know,” Daniel cries, wringing his hands together. “Your face went blank and then you just – couldn’t hear me or something. You stopped responding for like a whole minute! It looked like your soul left your body.”_

_Jisung blinks, raising a brow at that dramatic description. “I saw –” he starts, and then he stops because he doesn’t actually know what he saw. Just flashes of something – people screaming, and bright lights. It almost brings him back to that night at the party, how he had drunk too much and started hallucinating or something – and also because Daniel is a teenager and certainly not ready to hear that Jisung might possibly be losing his mind._

_“It’s nothing, Niel.” He grins and pinches the younger boy’s cheek. “I look okay, don’t I? I’m perfectly fine.”_

* * *

> Dear Roong,
> 
> So I met this guy recently. He seems really nice and I like him more than I can ever remember liking anyone. We’ve only known each other for a month though. Is that too soon to make my feelings known? He seems shy and I don’t want to scare him off.
> 
> Uncertain

“How do you know you’re giving the right advice?” His hip against the back of Jisung’s chair, Minhyun squinted at the screen, eyes darting left and right as he skimmed the other messages in the inbox.

Puffing out his cheeks, Jisung shrugged. “I don’t, honestly,” he confessed. “I do my best, but I only have these vague details to go off on. Like for this guy, Uncertain? I guess I’d tell him or her to confess if they feel the time is right, but not to put too much pressure on their crush. Assure him they’ll still be there for him even if he doesn’t feel the same way or isn’t ready for a relationship. Just – common sense stuff, you know? But things that might be difficult to see when you’re the one who's directly involved.”

“Mm. That’s pretty deep, _Roong_,” Minhyun murmured teasingly.

Jisung swivelled his chair around with a laugh, batting at Minhyun in faux annoyance.

“I’m not saying it isn’t good advice,” Minhyun protested, stepping back easily with a smirk on his face. “I mean, I relate to it.”

Jisung shook his head, chuckling. “What do you mean you relate to it?” he snorted, leaning back and raising a brow.

The corner of Minhyun’s lips quirked slightly, his tongue darting out to flick across his lips in a motion that seemed almost nervous. It was so utterly uncharacteristic of his usual collected front that Jisung stilled, finally realising that something was amiss.

“What is it?” he asked quietly, brows furrowing. He wasn’t sure if he had said something wrong, but the atmosphere was suddenly so strange that he barely dared to breathe as he waited for Minhyun’s response.

Minhyun only lifted a shoulder in an odd half-shrug, head tilting slightly. “Nothing,” he said, and then paused for so long that Jisung was unsure he was even going to continue. “I just don’t want to scare you off, I guess.” He darted a glance at the screen behind Jisung, eyes flickering repeatedly to Jisung’s dumbstruck expression and away.

“Scare me off?” Jisung repeated faintly. He thought that perhaps he should be standing for this moment, but he wasn’t sure if he had the strength to move from the chair.

“It’s only been, you know, a month or so,” Minhyun pointed out, having the grace to look sheepish as he shuffled awkwardly from foot to foot. “But I’ll still be here even if you don’t feel the same way.”

“Firstly,” Jisung protested, “you’re stealing my advice. Secondly, why – why would you like _me_?” He blinked, his second question going unspoken. _Why would _anyone _like me?_

Minhyun looked confused. “Because we get along?” he offered. “Because I feel comfortable when I’m with you, and I want to get to know you better. I think there’s a lot more to you that I still don’t know anything about.” He smiled, sweet and encouraging, and Jisung could hardly stand to look at him.

“I’m not – I mean, surely you've noticed that I don’t really go out,” he said haltingly, turning away, nails digging into his palms. “There’s a reason for that. I can’t do normal dates, or – normal…things. I have a, uh – condition.”

Minhyun approached him slowly, with that smile in his eyes that always made Jisung feel fluttery, except right then he only felt rather sick. He should be excited, grateful – this was what he’d wanted all along, wasn’t it?

“It’s okay,” Minhyun said softly. “I don’t mind – you know, whatever it is you have.” And then he was standing before Jisung, one hand extended slightly, palm up, waiting.

Jisung stared at it, at the lightly-lined palm and the pale, elegant fingers. “You don’t mind it _now_. Next month? Next year?” His voice was low and harsh in a way he couldn’t ever remember hearing from himself. “Someday you’ll want someone you can bring out for dinner, or to Lotte World, or to meet your friends, and I’m not that person. I wish I was, but I can’t be.”

“Hey,” Minhyun murmured, bending and taking Jisung’s hand in his. “I’m not asking you to marry me tomorrow or anything, but just – why not give us a try? I think you’re funny, and kind, and patient, and that’s more than what I had before. And it helps that you’re handsome as well, of course.” He grinned, one corner of his mouth curling up more than the other at Jisung’s huff of surprise.

Jisung looked up, at Minhyun’s face eight inches from his, his eyes intent and glowing with hope, and let out a breath. “I –” he started, shaking his head and closing his eyes. “I don’t know. I want to, but –”

Minhyun squeezed his hand, cutting him off. “Then that’s enough for now,” he said firmly, and he leaned down to press a chaste kiss to the corner of Jisung’s mouth.

Jisung inhaled sharply, eyes opening at that soft touch, and then somehow Minhyun was kissing him again, knees squeezed against the sides of Jisung’s hips as he balanced miraculously on the chair with his long legs folded awkwardly beneath him. Jisung couldn't help it – he leaned up into Minhyun’s touch, lips parting, one hand clutching at his shirt, the other still gripping the armrest of his chair, knuckles white with shock and spiralling delight.

Maybe Minhyun really was onto something, he thought. Maybe this was enough for now.

* * *

_In all honesty, he still doesn’t know if he’s making the right decision, but he’s been wondering that for the last three years and nothing’s fallen apart yet, so he thinks that maybe that counts for something._

_That doesn’t stop him from feeling like he’s about to throw up though, and he inhales deeply through his nose, trying to stave off the panic that’s threatening to rise up in him. He tugs at the cuffs of his sleeves, already stiff and perfect, as if that might help to keep the nausea at bay._

_He knows this feeling, this deep pit of dread in his stomach, and the abrupt realisation almost makes him forget about his terror._

_He doesn’t turn when he hears the footsteps behind him, just the soft scuff of dress shoes on carpet, and his stomach flips slightly when a hand is placed on his shoulder._

_“Are you okay?” Minhyun squeezes his shoulder, before his hand slides down to wind around Jisung’s waist from behind. “You feel tense.”_

_Jisung leans back against Minhyun’s chest, his heart still pounding at the thought of what’s to come. “I just realised something,” he murmurs, one hand settling over Minhyun’s. “This is my dream. It was always you, coming up behind me.”_

_Minhyun stills. “You always said you were scared in your dreams. Scared to death.”_

_Jisung laughs and turns, almost amused by the sudden uncertainty on Minhyun’s face. “I am. I’m terrified.” He pauses. “But now I know why I never had a vision of you.”_

_Minhyun raises his brows, his arms still looped about Jisung’s waist. “Why?”_

_“Because you’ve always been in mine. I haven’t just been dreaming of my own future. I’ve been dreaming of _ours_.” He leans up on his tiptoes to press a kiss to Minhyun’s lips, delighting in the slow flush of pink in his ears. He knows exactly how Minhyun is feeling right now, revelling in the magnitude of their future together, and finally he dares to believe that they will have one after all. A good one – a great one even._

_Jisung looks up into Minhyun's eyes and smiles. “Let’s go get married.”_

**Author's Note:**

> In an ideal world there would've been a couple more parts between the last two parts, but, well. This isn't the fic y'all deserve but I tried, I really did, so thank you for reading!
>
>> Jisung has the ability to see the future of others. Because of his power, it is hard for him to be in crowded places, as it can make him sick. Until one day when a new person named Hwang Minhyun moves into the unit next door. For some reason Jisung cannot see his future, which confuses him. Will Minhyun be the one to help him?


End file.
